


To Hold the Sky in Calloused Hands

by stalrua



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones, M/M, Minor Character Death, Politics, Rebellion, Slight Manga Spoilers, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalrua/pseuds/stalrua
Summary: It was summer in Westeros, and Eren was happy to spend his days with his friends. But peace was never meant to last. There were rumors stirring... rumors of war, of a false king who sat on the Iron Throne. His father had always said it: winter was coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This… didn’t pan out the way I expected. It began with a tumblr prompt and really just snowballed from there. Now it’ll still eventually fill the prompt, but it also has an Official Outline and is going to run somewhere around ten chapters. Maybe more? I should’ve known better than to set it up as a Game of Thrones AU.
> 
> A million thanks to [thisgirlsays22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22) for helping out as beta! You're such a rock star, Aer <3

“They say the queen is to give birth any day now.”

Marco, who'd been looking dully up at the clouds, perked up.  “Who says?”

Beside him, Eren shook his head, drawing closer to Marco as the trail they were on narrowed.  Of all the things that would catch his attention, naturally it would be Connie’s secondhand gossip from King's Landing.

Connie shrugged.  “They do.”

“Who’s _they_?” Marco pressed.

“Probably his mother,” Jean said, sneering at Connie as he walked backwards.  “When are you going to stop hiding behind her skirts and grow a pair?”

Throwing aside the edges of his cloak, Connie gestured suggestively.  “Oh, they’re there.  Come over here, and I’ll give you a peek.”

“Doesn’t matter who said it,” Mikasa spoke up from the back of the group.  “The kid will be a terror either way, just like all the others.”

The two boys ignored her in favor of making faces at each other, but before Jean could respond, he tripped over a fallen branch and disappeared into the tall grass with a muffled _oomph_.  No one stopped, just parted around him to continue on their way.  Eren chuckled when Jean emerged with chickweed blossoms stuck in his hair.  Served him right.

Connie took over leading the procession.  “The girls at the brothel were saying the child is actually her brother’s,” he called over his shoulder.

Armin nodded sagely.  “I could see that.”

It was a bold accusation, but that wasn’t what caught Eren’s interest.  “What were you doing at the brothels?”  Not that he wanted to go.  It was more how Connie managed to escape into the winter town by himself, something Eren was still trying to figure out how to do.

“Heh…”  With a lecherous smirk, Connie waggled his brows.  “What does anyone do there?”

“As if any of them would have you,” Eren retorted, sticking out his tongue.

Suddenly, Sasha jogged past everyone and leaped onto Connie’s back.  She wound her arms securely around his neck, unfazed by both his wild protests and stumbling attempts to remain standing.  “Well, _I_ heard the queen’s just gotten _fat_.”

“Hush!”

Everyone immediately fell silent at Shadis’ sharp order.  Without their banter, a deep calm settled over the forest.  Eren could still make out the stream they’d crossed a while back and the leaves rustling overhead in the breeze, but the silence was more than that.  It was dense, burrowed way down into his bones.  In that stillness, he could almost feel the world breathe in, out, in again.

“Look.”  Shadis pointed one gloved hand towards a thicket up ahead.  “Over there.”

The quiet was momentarily disrupted as they all fought for the best position to peer around Winterfell’s master-of-arms.  There was a bit of jostling, a few muttered curses.  Eren shouldered Jean’s head out of the way and received a jab to the ribs in return.  Everyone fell into place, though, just in time for a stag to step into the clearing.

Eren had seen one before.  They all had.  However, there was something vastly different between looking at a field dressed carcass hauled in on horseback and the living, breathing animal before him.  A pair of antlers extended far above its head, and corded muscles twitched beneath a hide darkened by morning dew and matted, even gouged in some places, from confrontations typical of the ongoing rut.  It turned glassy eyes on the group, a snort fogging in the air as it stomped one leg.

“Armin,” Shadis whispered, slowly motioning the boy to come forward.  Once they stood together, he pressed a bow into Armin’s hands, an arrow already nocked and ready.  “Remember, right behind the shoulder.  Don’t forget to breathe.”  He shifted to give the boy space.  “When you’re ready.”

Armin drew back the bow and anchored it against his cheek.

The stag stomped again, spooked by the intruders.

Both exhaled.

The arrow flew.

 

* * *

 

Expeditions beyond Winterfell’s walls were usually carefree.  They were more a chance for Eren and his friends to work off their restless and seemingly limitless energy than a study in survival.  Shadis would lead them into the wilderness where he’d teach them how to hunt, track, and be self-sufficient if the need should ever arise.  Occasionally, he’d have to box someone’s ears to keep them in line, but even then, his tone was always light and the mood easy.

The solemn group returning was a far cry from the exuberant one that had set out that morning, though.

“Better luck next time, Arlert.”

Trailing along at the rear, Eren tensed when Jean slapped Armin on the back.  His fingers tightened around the reins and his horse skittered sideways, sensing his agitation, but before he could do anything, Armin edged his piebald mare out of reach.

“You always say that,” Armin said.

“And one of these days it’ll be true.”  Jean leaned over, and Eren saw him flash a grin.  “You can’t miss forever.  Eventually you have to hit something.”

“Thanks,” Armin deadpanned, thin-lipped and dry.  It was often hard to tell when Jean was trying to be serious and when he was being an ass.

One by one, they passed through the southern gate where they were promptly greeted by Dita and a handful of children even younger than themselves who’d been tasked with helping in the stables.  The horses were handed off to be fed and rubbed down, although Sasha and Marco opted to follow along and care for their own.  Worn out by the early morning, Connie and Jean left to take a nap while Mikasa silently drifted off, probably to the armory.  She’d been shadowing Hannes for weeks in the hopes of additional training.

Alone in the courtyard, Eren watched Armin turn away towards the library tower.

“I don’t get it,” Armin mumbled.  His hands were shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched up around his ears.  “I’ve studied the technique, so why do I always miss?”

“Some things can’t be learned by just books and reading, Armin.  It takes practice.”  Eren winced at the look Armin shot him.  “More practice,” he amended.

“Mikasa got the hang of it right away.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a natural at everything.”

Eren had been eight years old when his father left to visit the outlying vassals only to return home with Mikasa.  Orphaned.  That was the abbreviated story his mother had spun.  But one night atop the Broken Tower, Mikasa had revealed the truth: that she and her mother had been captured by slave traders and destined for the pleasure houses of Lys, that Grisha had rescued them, that her mother had died of a festering wound anyway.

With the stars as a witness, Eren had leaned over to wrap the scarf his mother made for him around her neck and vowed to protect her.  A few months later, his parents chose to adopt and raise her as their own.  Mikasa had repaid their kindness with an almost single-minded devotion.  To House Jaeger.  To Eren.  She excelled at everything, to his occasional frustration.  Calling her a natural was an understatement.  Prodigy would be more fitting.

“Don’t compare yourself to Mikasa,” Eren grumbled.  “Trust me, it’ll only discourage you.”

Armin huffed, undeterred.  “Sasha did, too.  Even Connie can hit the target, and he can’t stay focused long enough to properly lace up his boots.”

“Everyone’s different, Armin.  Your strengths lie elsewhere,” Eren tried to reassure him.  Unlike the others, Armin enjoyed their lessons with Maester Moblit or being holed up in his room beneath a mountain of books.  “Maybe some people just aren’t made for killing.”

“But—”

Eren clapped his hands on his friend’s shoulders and began to steer him across the courtyard.  “Alright, that’s enough wallowing for one day.  Let’s go raid the kitchens, see if there are some sweet rolls left from breakfast.”

The pair headed off towards the kitchen, but before they could sneak through the door, Eren glanced behind him to the solitary figure that stood in the smithy, face illuminated by the faint glow of the forge, eyes as keen as the sword’s edge that he slid across the whetstone.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t matter that he was only a blacksmith.  It didn’t matter that he was surly on a good day and downright vicious on a bad one.  It didn’t matter that he was almost twice his age.  It didn’t matter that he was a bastard, that his mother had been a whore and his father some vague, unknown figure in the past.  It didn’t matter that he had nothing.  It didn’t matter that he might never get the chance to do anything more than spend time in his presence.  It didn’t matter that one day he might have to leave him behind to marry someone else.

Levi would always be the most captivating thing Eren had ever seen.

 

* * *

 

Eren lunged for the bowl of herbed potatoes, trying to beat Jean to it and not choke on his mouthful of pork at the same time.  Tableware went flying, a platter of candied carrots all but slid into Connie’s lap, and the contents of an overturned flagon coursed down the table.  However, both boys paused when the bowl disappeared from beneath their grappling hands.

Ignoring every lesson they’d ever had in proper etiquette, Sasha dug her spoon directly into the stolen bowl and grinned around a mouthful of potatoes.  “Too slow.”  Then she spun on her heel and retreated, ponytail swaying with every step, bowl in hand.

Jean jumped up.  “Why, you dirty little—”  But before he could vault over the table to chase after her, he was forced back into his seat.

“Sit.”  Another hand strong-armed Eren onto the bench as well.  “Down.”

“Aw, come on, Zeke.  We were just messing around.”  Eren pouted, resting his chin in his palm.  “You’re no fun.”

“No, _you’re_ no fun,” Zeke corrected.  He leaned down between Eren and Jean and looked pointedly into the crowd.  “Mother made me come over here to keep you two heathens in line when what I really want to do is cozy up to that lovely creature over there.”

Seated at one of the lower tables were several people visiting from Storm’s End for a few weeks.  They’d only arrived the day before and were still getting acquainted with the Northerners.  One auburn-haired girl in particular glanced their way and offered a shy smile.  Zeke returned the gesture, and Eren frowned.  She was pretty enough, he supposed, in a waifish, delicate sort of way.

“This is my nameday celebration, so stop ruining it.”  Zeke flicked their ears for good measure before stalking away.

Dinner that evening was a more boisterous event than usual, the atmosphere heightened by the combination of visitors and Zeke’s nameday.  Eren had hoped his antics might be overlooked in the added noise and festivities, but he should've known better.  His mother never missed anything.  When he chanced a look, she raised her brows in a no-nonsense expression he knew all too well.

Eren grumbled under his breath but dutifully settled, focus drifting aimlessly across the great hall.

There was Sasha, still working on the bowl of potatoes and refusing to share with her father.  Armin’s blonde hair stuck out in the sea of dark colors as he went to check on his younger brother Floch.  At another table, Dita and Hannes were locked in an ongoing arm-wrestling match while several of the other soldiers cheered them on gamely.  Shadis sat near the back of the hall nursing his flagon, eyes half-closed despite the noise.

Eren was staring unseeingly at the old master-of-arms when the flutter of robes caught his eye.

Hurrying around the edges of the hall, holding his chains to his chest as he wove through the crowd, was Maester Moblit.  His brows were furrowed, and Eren found himself straightening to follow the man’s progress.  Maester Moblit was always so calm and unflappable.  The only thing that ever seemed to get under his skin was Hange, and that was because the disgraced former maester refused to stop their experiments even after being cast out of the order.

This felt different, though.

Interest piqued, Eren spun on the bench and watched over his shoulder as Maester Moblit approached the high table.  After a shallow bow to Lady Jaeger, he handed a small scroll to his father who accepted it with a dismissive nod.  But the maester didn’t leave, just hovered nearby while his father read the message, hands clasped tightly, and Eren’s suspicions were confirmed when his father frowned and stood abruptly.

Maester Moblit’s mouth was moving, but his voice was lost in the rest of the noise.  Eren wished he could read lips as well as Mikasa.  Something about the king and… a hoop?  Or did he say coop?  Were they talking about a chicken coop?  Before taking on the role of Lord of Winterfell, his father had been a renowned healer.  Perhaps there was some kind of avian disease going around King’s Landing that required his father’s skills.  It seemed far-fetched, but stranger things had—

Without warning, his mother pushed up from her chair as well, and the three of them left the great hall through one of the side doors as discreetly as possible.  No one else appeared to even notice the sudden absence of their lord and lady.  Except, of course, Eren who stared at the door through which they’d disappeared with narrowed eyes.

 

* * *

 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A steely gaze pinned Eren just as he entered the smithy.  He faltered at the abrupt statement but recovered quickly enough.  He was used to it by now.

“This is technically my castle, so I can go wherever I want,” Eren said with a smug grin.

“It’s your father’s castle, you spoiled brat.”  Squinting from the heat, Levi used a pair of long-handled forceps to push a broadsword further into the forge.  “It won’t be yours until Lord Jaeger grows tired of putting up with you and decides to finally get some rest six foot underground.  Your brother would need to die, too.  Possibly even your sister.”

“Ha!  No way would Mikasa become the head of House Jaeger before me.”

“Isn’t she older?”

“Barely.”  Technically, Mikasa was a year and a half older, but if Levi wasn’t going to immediately point out the exaggeration, Eren wasn’t going to give him any more chance to do so.  “Not that it matters,” he forged on.  “Father may have legitimized the adoption, but that doesn’t make her any less of a girl.”

The coals glowed when Levi rearranged the sword once more.  “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.  Tradition states that if Zeke were to die, the line of succession falls to me.”

“Eren Jaeger, Lord of Winterfell.”  Levi snorted.  “Woe unto us all.”

“Very funny.”  Eren scowled, wandering deeper into the smithy.

When he wasn’t tending to the general needs of Winterfell or being commissioned for a particular order, Levi forged a wide variety of items, the likes of which hung on the back wall.  Eren surveyed the array of helmets and shields, swords and daggers, even the occasional axe.  Most were simple and practical, but there was the occasional showpiece: a dagger with gold inlays on a curved mother of pearl hilt, a helmet crafted in the image of some great horned beast, a short sword with ornate scrollwork etched into the blade.

His father often said Levi was the best blacksmith he’d ever known.  His blades held their edge twice as long as any other, the design of his helmets allowed for better vision and hearing without sacrificing coverage, and while lighter weight, his armor was significantly more durable.  _If he’d been around twenty-five years ago_ , his father once told Lord Kruger of the Eyrie while gesturing to the jagged, pitted scar that ran from temple to chin, _I would’ve made it through the Marleyan uprising with more of my face_.

“Tradition…”  Levi bit out the word like it left a foul taste in his mouth, and Eren was drawn back to the present.  “Where I come from, it doesn’t matter if you’re old or young, if you’re big or small, if you’ve got a dick or a cunt.  Fuck honor, and fuck tradition.  You have to be strong if you want to stay alive.  Fight dirty.  Do whatever it takes to win, because that’s all that matters.”

“Well, we’re not wherever you’re from, so it does matter,” Eren shot back and instantly cringed when it came out sounding far more petulant than intended.  Opting for a different topic, he lightly fingered one of the blades on the wall as he eyed the blacksmith.  “Where _are_ you from?”

“Thought it didn’t matter,” Levi teased, lips curled into a smirk.

“I hate it when you do that.”  Mocking never failed to set Eren on edge, primarily because of the years he’d spent defending Armin but also from his own experiences.  When they were younger, Zeke used to antagonize him terribly.  It was marginally better when it came from Levi – because it was _Levi_ – but it still grated.  “You don’t have to be an ass.”

“Oi, watch your mouth.”

“Why?”  Eren plucked a small dagger from the wall.  It was small, simple, and felt good in his palm.  “You curse all the time.”

“Yes, and I’m an adult.”

Still fiddling with the dagger, Eren draped himself over the back of a chair, tone hopeful, eyes even more so.  “I’m twelve.”

“Which is so far a cry from being an adult, it’s laughable,” Levi said.  As if to emphasize the point, he hefted the broadsword from the coals and placed it on an anvil.  The steel blazed, bright and red and angry.  “Your parents catch you speaking like that, they’ll think you picked it up here.”

Eren scoffed.  “I did.”

The first strike of the hammer against the blade made his ears ring, and the resulting sparks danced lazily in the air between them.  Holding the sword firmly in place, Levi reared back for another blow.  The heat from the forge warmed the smithy better than any hearth, and there was no disguising the way his muscles slid over each other, shoulders bunching and arms straining beneath the threadbare tunic.

Eren shucked off his cloak, suddenly much warmer than he had been a few minutes ago, but didn’t allow his thoughts to linger.  Instead, he stared silently on as Levi pounded the imperfections from the sword.  What all had he witnessed before coming to Winterfell?  What all had he gone through to speak the way he did?  So bleak, so… callous.

“It sounds like a cruel place,” Eren said softly.  “Where you’re from.”

The words ventured out between hammer strikes like a secret, not so much meaning to be heard as needing to be said.  Eren figured they’d be lost in the reverberating noise anyway.  However, Levi paused for a moment on the next upswing.  His arm trembled slightly with the effort of holding the hammer aloft, but his eyes were dark and focused, stared right through the burning steel into a past only he could see.

“It was.”

Eren flinched when his finger slipped against the dagger, then flinched again when the hammer rang out.  “I…”  He watched the thin line of blood well up.  “I’m not as strong as Jean.”

“You don’t need to be.  Strength isn’t always measured by pure brawn.  You can be quicker, smarter.  More determined.  More desperate.”  Levi huffed what might have been the bitter ghost of a laugh.  “There’s a lot that can be said for desperation.”

_Your strengths lie elsewhere, Armin._

Hadn’t he said that no more than a month ago?

Eren smeared the blood around between his finger and thumb.  In a world where men were judged by their size, Levi was a walking contradiction.  He wasn’t as tall as Eren’s father or Hannes.  In fact, he was rather on the short side, several ladies and even some of the youth standing above him.  Neither did he have Ser Keith’s exceptionally broad build.  But there was no denying the strength he carried.  Even if Eren had never seen him fight, he would’ve been hesitant to bet against him.  Levi’s was a dangerous strength: predatory, merciless.  And now he knew why.

The echo of the final stroke continued long after Levi had dropped the hammer into the anvil.  Sweat beaded on the blacksmith’s brow, and he swiped it off with the back of his arm before quenching the sword in a barrel of water, all but disappearing into the cloud of hissing steam that curled around him as the steel cooled and hardened.

Eren studied Levi's outline through the haze, then looked over at three antler-handled hunting knives on the table beside him.  A tag affixed to one read _Abel_.  The other two were for people whose names he didn't recognize.  Eren considered the pieces, the question forming in his mind and spilling out before he could do anything to prevent it.

“Hey, Levi?” Eren called out.  A quiet grunt was the only sign that he’d been heard.  “You have a lot of people come through here.  Have you ever heard… rumors?  About King Fritz?”

“People can’t help but talk, especially when it comes to royalty.  There’s always going to be shit going around,” Levi said.  “Just the other day, one of your friends was going on about how the queen was supposedly fucking her brother.”

With a sigh, Eren rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah, Connie’s pretty hung up on that.  But I was wondering if you’ve heard anything really bad?”

“What, the queen fucking her brother isn’t bad enough for you?”

“No— I mean, yes, that would be terrible, but…”  Eren took a deep breath.  “I meant rumors about him being a fraud.  You know, a fake.”

For the first time since he’d walked through the entrance, Levi’s eyes met his.  Snapped was more like it, quick and narrowed and sharp.  “I know what a fraud is,” he said, slow and measured.  “What I don’t know is where you got that idea.”

“A raven came during Zeke’s nameday feast.  Father seemed worried when he read it, so I followed my parents back to their chambers.  They were arguing,” Eren frowned as he walked around the chair and slumped into it.  “They never argue.”  The memory of their voices was still loud in his ears.  “Whoever sent that raven claimed that King Fritz was merely a puppet king and that they planned to do a coup e… a coup de…”

“A coup d’état?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Eren felt the weight of Levi’s regard but couldn’t bring himself to meet it.  He stared down at his lap, watched the reflection of the coals blink across the dagger as he twisted it around and around.  Wind whistling across the vented opening in the smithy’s roof was the only sound in the otherwise heavy, protracted silence until Levi finally yanked the broadsword from the barrel to place it on the nearest workbench, muttering something about eavesdropping under his breath.

Levi moved back and forth a few times, but Eren only looked up when the smithy was suddenly plunged into darkness, the cold, grey morning blocked out by the door Levi had pulled closed.  It took a moment for Eren’s eyes to adjust.  The only source of light were the coals glowing in the center of the room.  They didn’t reach the far corners of the smithy, but they were enough to highlight Levi as he slowly crossed the room.

“There are rumors, and then there are _rumors_.  What you’re talking about, the stuff you heard… that’s the kind of talk that gets people killed,” Levi said, stopping directly in front of Eren.  He carefully pulled the dagger from his fingertips, and tucked it into his waistband.  “Better to forget you ever heard it.”

“But my father—”

“If what you’re saying is true, he’s involved in something bigger than you or me and will most likely end up dead.”

Eren shot up out of the chair.  “Then I have to warn him!  He needs to know he’s in danger!”  Dread pooled in his stomach, making him feel sick.

Levi’s hands closed firmly around Eren’s arms, though whether it was on instinct at the way Eren had suddenly crowded into his space or because of genuine concern he couldn’t say.  Either way, he held Eren in place, grounding out the frenetic energy that had lit his blood on fire.  “He does know, Eren.  He just doesn’t care.”

“But—”

“Lord Jaeger is a smart man,” Levi cut him off again.  “You can be sure that if he’s willing to go along with that plan, it’s because he believes in it and is willing to die for it.  Brave men are always willing to die for their beliefs.”  He wrapped one hand around the back of Eren’s neck.  It was a comforting gesture, familiar.  “Do you trust your father?”

Eren lifted his chin.  “Yes.”  There was no hesitation because he did, implicitly and without question.

“Then trust that he knows what he’s doing.”  Exhaustion and maybe a hint of worry crept into Levi’s features all of a sudden.  “Eren…”  He exhaled deeply.  “No more talking about this.  To anyone.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Levi gave a shallow nod and chucked him lightly under the chin before throwing wide the door.  Light streamed in, and Eren blinked rapidly.  While they’d been talking, the sun had burned off the low bank of clouds and now bathed those training in the courtyard.  It was a normal day.  He could hear the clash of steel on steel, the distant baying of hounds let loose for a hunt, laughter as a maid tried to usher a group of toddlers inside.  Busy yet lighthearted, same as any other.  But when Eren exited the smithy, he couldn’t shake the leaden weight that had settled in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

Knee-high grass lined the path leading through a grove of weeping willows.  The air was rich with the sweet scent of flowers and lazy drone of insects.  Eren picked his way steadily along the winding path.  It was summer here, always summer, bright and warm and fresh.  Eventually, he emerged into a clearing lined by trees.  A temple stood in the center, utterly out of place and surrounded by mounds of dirt as if it had erupted violently from the earth.  The obsidian walls called to him, but he didn’t reach out to touch them, not anymore, just passed through the arching entrance to where he knew she’d be waiting.

It was a dream.

He knew it was a dream because he’d been here before.

Not in the physical sense.  He might have come to this place over and over again, night after night, but he’d never actually looked upon it with his own eyes.  Still… how many times had he tread that path and entered that temple?  How many times had he walked down the aisle to the woman standing before the altar?  How many times had she turned around, taken his hand in hers, drawn him close?

Hair so pale it was almost white hung in a plait over one shoulder, and her violet eyes were soft as she directed his attention to the altar.  There stood three statues, each one crafted in the image of a young girl and made of crystal that gleamed more brilliantly than any precious gem.  The woman gently stroked the back of his hand.  In all the times Eren had come here, she’d not once said their names, but he knew them all the same.

Three daughters.

Three lives lost.

Eren stared up into those cold, sightless eyes.  Who had taken their place?  Who had risen up from their ashes?  Someone had to.  The dragon must have three heads.

“What will you do?” the woman asked.

The dream was fading now.  Everything had taken on a hazy quality, and cracks began to splinter through the obsidian, up the walls, across the ceiling, beneath their feet.  They didn’t flee, though.  Massive chunks of the temple began to break off, but they stood firm amidst the wreckage.  Didn’t flinch when the statues shattered into thousands of dazzling shards.  Didn’t blink when the impact shuddered through their bones.

“I’ll kill them,” Eren whispered the promise, ensnared by that violet gaze.  “All of them.  Every last one.”

The floor crumbled and gave way then, and he was tumbling through the darkness.

Falling, falling, falling.

No, not falling.

Flying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *subtly removes the estimated chapter count* Did I say this was going to be roughly ten chapters? Well, I lied. This fic has developed a mind of its own.
> 
> Eternal thanks to [thisgirlsays22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22) for helping out as beta <3

“Okay, are you ready?”  Eren braced the bow against the toe of his boot.  Crouching down, he used his weight to force it into a curve, just enough to slide the looped end of the bowstring into the notch.  “We’re going to take this nice and easy,” he said, testing the draw a few times before handing the bow to Armin.  He waved off the rest of the courtyard when Armin’s eyes darted around.  “Don’t be nervous, no one’s even watching.”

“I am.”

Eren didn’t bother glancing back at Connie, not when Armin already looked like he was about to bolt, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.  “You don’t count.”  With a reassuring smile, Eren gestured for his friend to begin.  “Draw.  Good, now hold.”  He bobbed from one side to the other to check Armin’s form.  Feet spread, back straight, shoulders down—

“Stop holding your breath.  It makes you shaky,” Connie advised, then casually inspected whatever he’d carved into the wooden support beam he was straddling.  “And you need to keep both eyes open.”

Armin relaxed his draw and lowered the bow, looking back and forth between Eren and Connie hesitantly.  Eren gritted his teeth.  They were good suggestions, but the last thing he wanted was to overwhelm Armin before they had a chance to get his confidence up.

“Only if it helps,” Eren shot back.  “A wider view may be good, but hitting the target is better.”

“And if there’s someone coming at you from the side?”  The knife glinted when Connie pointed it at them, then mimicked sliding it across his throat.  “You can’t hit anything if you’re dead.”

It was… a surprisingly sound retort.  Eren cocked his head and sighed, “Okay, fine.  But he needs to be accurate, and right now he’d have more luck walking up to someone and sticking them with the arrow.”

Connie relented with a shrug and returned to the beam, gouging at it repeatedly.  Wood shavings littered the puddles beneath him.  Winterfell was a slushy mess thanks to the thunderstorm that had blown through the day before.

“Maybe you should try squinting your other eye instead of closing it?  See if that helps,” Eren suggested, trying to find some middle ground.  Armin stared at him uncertainly for a long moment before raising the bow once more.  “Take your time, don’t rush it.”

The bowstring twanged, and Eren watched the arrow fly far left of the makeshift target into one of the wine caskets waiting to be hauled off to the cellar.  The second arced high, disappearing into the trees behind the target and startling up several pigeons.  When the third sunk into the mud several feet short, Armin grabbed hold of the bow in both hands like he was about to throw it.

“That’s it.  I’m done, Eren.  You were right, some people aren’t made to do this.”

“Come on, Armin, don’t be like that.  Here.”

Eren held out one hand, and Armin readily handed over the bow.  After adjusting his own hand guard, Eren nocked another arrow, drew back, and stared down the shaft at the center of the target.  He ticked through his lessons one at a time: tilt the bow slightly to the left, aim from the bottom up, inhale through the nose, adjust for distance, slow exhale through the mouth.  But just as he was about to release, something poked his lower back.

“Hey!” Eren shouted.  He released the tension on the bow and whirled around to an annoyingly familiar grin.  Without any support, the arrow swung out to the side, then popped off the string to fall at his feet.  “What do you want, Zeke?”

“For starters, I want your arrow to steer clear of my horse.”

A large chestnut stallion with a white blaze was tied off far to the right.  Eren frowned.  It wasn’t anywhere near them.  “What are you talking—”

“I’m correcting your form, you dolt.  If you want to help Armin, you need to do it right yourself,” Zeke said as he smacked the flat of his sword against Eren’s shoulder.  “You’re too tense.  You’re going to pull to the right when you release.”

“Will not!”

“Is that so?  Fine…”  Zeke swept a hand down the range.  “Let’s see, then.”

The mud sucked at Eren’s boots as he stubbornly adjusted his stance and readied the bow.  Before drawing, he glanced over his shoulder.  Zeke dipped his chin and looked pointedly at the target.  Still perched on the beam behind him, Connie had given up his defacement in favor of watching the two brothers.  Eren turned away from their expectant looks with a huff.

“Always think you know everything,” Eren grumbled under his breath.  “Tense…”  The bow creaked when he pulled back more forcefully than normal.  “I’m not tense.  Not stupid, either.  Act like I haven’t had enough lessons with Shadis to know to relax my shoulders.”

Eren loosed, and the arrow struck the right side of the target.  A few more inches and it would’ve missed completely.

Across the courtyard, the stallion tossed his head and whinnied.

“The tension’s not in your shoulders.”  A few squelching steps were the only warning Eren had before Zeke whacked him with the sword, this time on his thigh.  “It’s here.”

“I have to stand, don’t I?”  Eren scowled and peevishly rubbed at his leg.  That one hurt.

“I’m talking about unnecessary tension.  If you’re carrying it in any part of your body, it makes a difference.  Too much tension here…”  Eren sidestepped when Zeke reached out to poke his leg again.  “Makes you sloppy here.”  But he wasn’t quick enough to dodge the follow-up hit to his forearm.

Eren slapped the sword away with a growl only for Zeke to snag the other end of the bow.  Before he could even think about letting go, Zeke used it to reel him into a headlock.  Eren scrabbled in vain at the arm around his neck.  An extra ten years and sixty pounds gave his brother a distinct advantage, but Eren still managed several kicks to his shins before Zeke released him to the sound of Connie laughing.

“You should really learn to stay calm,” Zeke said.

The urge to rush him flitted briefly through Eren’s mind, but he didn’t need to add insult to injury by ending up thrown in the mud.  As it was, he probably looked a mess: hair wild, face splotchy and red, mouth twisted in a rebellious snarl.  Zeke neither appeared to notice or care, though, just tossed the bow back.

“And I never said you were stupid, so stop whining and take some damn advice,” Zeke added, sheathing his sword and calmly meeting Eren’s glare.  He was wearing that worldly expression, the one that implied he knew so much more because he’d _seen things_ , but then it softened.  “Just… don’t think too much.  It’s in your nature to go at it all or nothing, but let things come naturally.  You’ve always done better when you just let it happen.”

It was a valiant attempt to salvage the conversation.  Eren recognized that much, at least.  The problem was that he didn’t care.  It was too little too late, and he allowed their impasse to drag out until Zeke finally twitched.  Eren expected him to try and ruffle his hair in some half-assed apology; however, Zeke merely jerked his chin, turned on his heel, and strode away.

“Well…”  Connie broke the awkward silence, showering Eren with a handful of wood shavings.  “He might not think you’re stupid, but we do.”

Armin shook his head vehemently.  “ _We_ do not.”  But Eren was already digging one end of the bow into the ground to sling mud their way.

Several clumps splattered Armin, but the majority of it flew towards Connie, who dodged with a curse only to lose his balance and slide off the beam.  He landed face-first in the mud with a satisfying _plop_.  Eren dissolved into laughter, hands braced on his knees.  Even Armin chuckled at the sight of Connie’s face once he pulled free.

“You can be a real jerk, you know that?”  Connie scrubbed the gunk from his eyes.  “Hannes is going to skin you alive when he sees what you did to that bow.  He made it himself.”

Eren glanced at the mud caked over one end.  Connie was probably right, but he shrugged off the threat with an air of false bravado.  “Nah, he’s busy with Mikasa right now.”  He jabbed a thumb towards the sparring pair in the middle of the courtyard.  “I’ll clean it up before he notices.”

Leaving Connie to clean himself off, Eren and Armin turned to watch Hannes and Mikasa circle each other.  They both wielded dual knives, and the courtyard was alive with a flurry of _shinks_ and _clicks_ and _scritches_ as they went at it too quickly for Eren to keep up.  Just when he thought he saw the pattern, they'd switch it up and lose him all over again.

It was an impressive display.  Even more so considering Hannes was drunk.  Of course, he was always drunk, but still… Eren would never understand how he managed that swaying, stumbling footwork while simultaneously barking corrections and fending off an attacking Mikasa without falling on his ass.

“Keep moving, keep your feet moving,” Hannes instructed.  “Read the motions… find an opening… press it— good!”  Mikasa yelped, and Hannes grinned as she rubbed her shoulder.  “That doesn’t mean to let your guard down.  Again?”

Mikasa straightened, flipped the end of her scarf over one shoulder, and readied the knives.  “Again.”

Then they were at it once more, ducking and dodging, spinning and surging, blades flashing, mud flying, testing each other’s defenses and footwork and reflexes in a deadly dance.

Hannes was good.  Eren couldn’t deny that no matter how much the soldier’s lackadaisical attitude chafed at him.  It was why his father turned a blind eye to the drinking and kept him in his service.  But Mikasa was good too, and she forced Hannes to take her seriously by skittering nimbly around him, lashing out with one knife, then the other.

“You’re right.  There’s no use in comparing,” Armin said.  He worked the last glob of mud free from his hair and smeared it on Eren’s tunic.  “At least one of us knows what they’re doing.”

 

* * *

 

Eren stretched out on the branch, fingers laced together beneath his head, feet propped against the trunk.  The weirwood tree dipped and swayed around him every time the wind blew.  It made him feel weightless, suspended.  When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was flying.

“Eren?”

It took a while for the voice to register.  The tree’s gentle movement coupled with the warm afternoon sun filtering through the leaves must have had him dozing off.  He didn’t open his eyes until the second call came.  Rolling slightly, he peered down through the bleached branches.

“Come down here, son,” his father called.

Getting down was far quicker than climbing up.  Eren clambered around the heart tree like the monkeys Maester Moblit said lived on the Isle of Cedars, stepping off one branch and catching hold of another as he fell, letting the momentum swing him to the next, over and over again until he finally landed at the bottom.

Eren dusted off the chips of white bark clinging to his tunic.  “How did you know I was up there?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.

“A better question might be: where else would I find you?  You’ve been climbing this tree since you were… four?  Five, maybe?  I still remember the first time Zeke put you on one of these branches.  You just took off, didn’t even stop until you were almost at the top.  You weren’t scared in the least.”  His father sat on one of the rocks and absently scratched his chin.  “You’ve been coming here ever since.”

“Mother hates when I climb things.”  Eren frowned.  The conversation wouldn’t be nearly as calm if she’d been the one to catch him.

“Only because she doesn’t want you getting hurt.  She means well.”

“I guess.”  Eren shrugged.  A melancholy smile played at his father’s mouth as he looked up at the tree, and Eren followed his gaze.  “You can get hurt doing a lot of things, though.”

His father hummed in agreement.  “I used to play here, too, when I was a boy.  Have I ever told you that?”  Eren shook his head, but his father didn’t seem to notice.  “I’d climb through these branches, same as you.  My parents scolded me constantly for it, said this was a sacred place and a heart tree wasn’t meant to be a child’s plaything.”

That sounded familiar.  His mother didn’t like him climbing in general, but it was Maester Moblit who considered climbing a heart tree to be sacrilegious.  _It’s not enough that you reject The Faith of the Seven, you have to insult the Old Gods as well?_   Smirking at the memory of the maester's chiding, Eren picked his way along the edge of the pond to sit on one of the gnarled roots creeping across the ground near his father's feet.

“One time, your aunt and I were playing,” his father continued.  “We were about halfway up the tree when she slipped.  I tried to help her, but we both ended up falling.  It was a miracle Faye missed hitting anything on the way down.  She ended up with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises, whereas I had a broken leg, three cracked ribs, and a concussion.  After I recovered, I couldn’t bring myself to climb again.  But you’re not like that, Eren.  There’s not a single shred of fear in you.  Never has been.”

That wasn’t true, though.

Eren thought of the statue down in the crypt, the young girl with a bird in her cupped hands who’d survived so much only to die anyway.  He remembered the sense of inevitability that accompanied his whispered promise to the woman in the temple.  The sick feeling in his stomach as he overheard his parents arguing.

_I’m scared of some things._

His father was still staring up into the foliage when Eren cut a sideways glance, taking in the slightly unkempt hair and bags under his eyes.  Stubble shadowed his jaw, everywhere except the pale scar where hair no longer grew.  It looked like he hadn’t slept all night.  His father was always so meticulous, it was strange to see him anything less than put together.

“Father…”  Eren grabbed one of the fallen leaves from between his feet and began to methodically break it apart.  “Was there a reason you came here to find me?”

“Does there need to be?” his father asked.  “Is the idea of me wanting to spend time with my youngest son that unbelievable?”

Unbelievable?  No.

Unlikely?  Yes.

Although it wasn’t that his father didn’t want to spend time with him, he was just always so busy.  Being the Lord of Winterfell meant he was often pulled in several directions at once, few of which involved family.  It was a hard truth Eren had come to accept.

“Maybe if you didn’t sound so defensive,” Eren said, brows lifted.

The stillness of the godswood did nothing to dampen his father’s laugh.  “You’ve become awfully perceptive.”

A smile tugged at Eren’s mouth unbidden.  He didn’t get to hear that laugh enough.  If only they could stay in that moment, just the two of them, the rest of the world pushed aside, unimportant and irrelevant.

“You’re right, though.  I did want to speak with you,” his father said somewhat reluctantly, and the brief instant of happiness flitted away as quickly as it had come.  In its place was the cold sting of reality.  “I’ll be leaving for Storm’s End in a month.  There’s business I need to see to with Lord Smith.”

Eren stared down at what remained of the leaf in his hands and worried his lower lip.  Their conversation felt like a bad dream coming to life.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, but it shouldn’t be for long.  Hopefully no more than a couple months.  I’ll be back before you know it.”

So much could go wrong in a couple months, though.  If Levi was right… if Lord Smith was the one planning the coup d’état and his father was in danger…  “Couldn’t I come with you?”  He could help.  He could watch for spies and help keep his father safe and—

“Not this time, son,” his father said, shaking his head and resting a hand on Eren’s shoulder.  “I need you to stay behind and take care of your mother.”

“Zeke can do that.”

“Zeke will be taking care of Winterfell in my stead.”  That had Eren jerking to attention, turning so quickly he almost slipped off the tree root, a protest already on the tip of his tongue.  “But your mother means more to me than any castle,” his father smoothly cut him off.  “Which is why I’m asking _you_ to watch over her.  I wouldn’t entrust her safety to anyone else.” 

“But I—”

“Eren, please.”  His father scrubbed wearily at his face.  “Listen, I don’t want to frighten you, but I don’t want to lie to you either.  This business with Lord Smith will be dangerous.  That’s why I need to know that you and Zeke can get along well enough to take care of things while I’m away.  If we’re to remain strong, we cannot fight a war amongst ourselves.”

Getting along would be easier if Zeke weren’t always picking on him, but Eren could sense how exhausted his father was.  As much as he butted heads with Zeke, he didn’t have the heart to complain when his father looked like he did.

“We’ll be fine,” Eren said.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.”

Any reservations he might have felt disappeared at his father’s blatant relief.  He’d wanted to help, and if this was the only way he could, so be it.

“I know you will.”  His father clapped him on the shoulder and stood, readjusting the scabbard at his side.  “How about we go on an expedition before I leave, just you and me?  It’s been too long since we last did that.”

Eren’s mouth fell open in surprise.  “Really?  You’ll… have time?”

“I’ll make time.”

“Alright.”  Eren nodded as shock gradually gave way to excitement.  It seemed like forever since the two of them had spent time together.  “Yeah, okay!”

“Good.  It’s settled then.”  Holding his cloak close, his father began to make his way out of the godswood, carefully stepping over roots and rocks hidden beneath the layer of leaves.  He stopped on the other side of the pond to glance up at the ancient weirwood once more.  “It _is_ a good climbing tree.  Shame it’s considered inappropriate.  If your mother catches you up there, she’ll wring your neck.  You know that, right?”

Eren dusted himself off and returned to the tree.  “What if I told her you said it was okay?” he teased.

“Then she’ll wring _my_ neck.”

Eren placed a hand on the trunk.  For such a timeless thing, its bark was remarkably brittle.  It flaked off in paper-thin strips at his touch.  As Eren bounced up onto his tiptoes to grasp the lowest branch, he could feel his father’s watchful gaze.

“You’re not going to stop climbing it, are you?” His father watched him dangle from the tree, expression thoughtful.

Eren grinned over his shoulder.  “Not a chance.”  Then he hefted himself up and began the slow climb back to his previous perch.  By the time he reached it and peeked over the edge, his father was already gone.

 

* * *

 

The door creaked loudly in the otherwise quiet room.  “Rise and shine, little lord.”

Eren rolled over, burrowing deeper into the quilt and doing his best to ignore the woman puttering around.  It was still early.  Too early.  The sun wasn’t even fully up yet.  He just wanted to sleep for a little bit longer.  But then a distant roll of thunder filtered through his grogginess, and Eren shot up in bed.

It wasn’t dark because it was early, it was dark because—

“It’s raining!  No, no, no…”  Eren scrambled out of bed, darted past Nanaba, and crawled onto the window seat.  With a drawn-out groan, he pressed his face and hands to the glass.  “Why is it raining _again_?”

“The seasons are changing,” Nanaba said.  “Can’t you feel it?”

“What I feel is depressed.”

Stuck inside again.  Eren felt like he’d seen more rain in the past few months than in the past few years.  He and his friends were supposed to visit the winter town that afternoon.  So much for that.  Drizzle was one thing, even a passing shower, but there was no way Shadis would let them venture out in this downpour.  It fell in sheets so heavy he could barely see the sept down below.

Eren slumped against the window frame and crossed his arms.  What a great start to the day.  Now all he had to look forward to was… nothing, really.  Not until the rain stopped.  There was only so much fun to be had when cooped up indoors.

Resting his temple against the pane, Eren’s attention shifted back and forth between the blur of water cascading down the window and Nanaba arranging the quilt on his bed.  “What makes you even think the seasons would be changing?” he asked, curious despite his disappointment.  “There hasn’t been any word from the Citadel.”

Nanaba cast him a secretive smile.  “Stuffy old men hiding away in their stuffy old castles can’t be expected to know anything.”

Maester Moblit immediately came to mind, and Eren had the sudden urge to defend his patient, calm instructor.  “They’re maesters.  They know everything.”

“Oh, little lord...” Nanaba chuckled.  “Smart men they may be, but they only know what they’ve been taught.  How can anyone be expected to learn the way the world works without being out in the world to witness it?  Any fool can see snow fall on the Twins and know that summer has passed.  A raven’s no use by then.”

“So then how do you know?”

“We in the North have always sensed it first.  It’s in the winds and the way the animals behave.  Some even read it in runes or the stars.  How do you think House Jaeger got its words?”  She paused in the middle of fluffing his pillows.  “Things have been changing for a while now.  There’s a heaviness in the air, as if the world’s holding its breath just waiting for something.”

A chill snaked down Eren's spine despite the tepid morning.  He couldn't say whether it was from the ominous quality to Nanaba’s statement or his lingering unease at the very real threats stirring in the kingdom.  Maybe it was both.

He rotated on the seat to help disguise his shiver.  “That just sounds like another one of your stories, Old Nan,” he joked.  Leaning back against the window, he let his feet dangle, heels thumping lightly against the wall as he swung them.

Nanaba cocked a brow at the nickname but didn’t remark on it.  Children in Winterfell had been affectionately using it since before Eren was born.  “Well, there’s a grain of truth in everything,” she said.  “Where do you think stories come from?”

“Even the scary ones?”

“ _Especially_ the scary ones.”

Eren’s focus drifted as he thought about the stories Nanaba had told him over the years.  They were all good.  She had a penchant for storytelling.  But out of all of them… “The scary ones are my favorites,” he said.

When he received no response, Eren blinked to find Nanaba watching him, her smile turned sad.

“Of course you’d like those best.  You’re a sweet summer child.  What do you know about fear?”  Nanaba resumed tidying up his room.  “Fear is for the true winter, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep.  Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides for years and children are born and live and die all in darkness.  That is the time for fear, my little lord, when Titans move through the woods.”

Lightning briefly lit up the room.  Eren jumped at the subsequent crack, then shivered again, this time to the snarling rumble of thunder.  Without even sparing a glance, Nanaba tossed a lightweight throw his way, and he drew the blanket around his shoulders and over his head like a hood.

“Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation.  Lords froze to death in their castles same as the shepherds in their huts, and women smothered their babies rather than see them starve and wept and felt the tears freeze on their cheeks.”  Nanaba stopped with her arms full of dirty linens to study his reaction.  “This is the sort of story that you like?”

Peering out of the mound of blanket with wide eyes, Eren nodded.

“In that darkness, Titans came for the first time,” she continued.  “They swept through cities and kingdoms in endless droves, bodies scorching to the touch and taller than trees, consuming every human in their path, vomiting up the remains just so they could eat their fill again…”

 

* * *

 

“It really wasn’t all that difficult.  The foundation of the cloak was standard, even if embroidering the sigil was trickier than I’m used to,” Mikasa explained.  “And Jean gave me the pelt.  His uncle killed the wolf and brought it back so he could tan the hide, but he said he’d rather me have it.  It was a nice gesture.  I’m not used to him— what are you doing?”

Eren tilted his head in Mikasa’s direction, but his eyes never strayed from the building barely visible on the other side of the interior gates.  Mikasa backtracked to where Eren had abruptly stopped.  The sound of festivities spilling out of the great hall behind them wasn’t enough to mask her long-suffering sigh.

“Eren…”

“Hold on.”  He turned towards the building.

“Eren, no!”  Mikasa caught his sleeve.  “Your parents are waiting.”

“And they’ll still be there even if we’re late,” Eren reasoned as he twisted free and jogged backwards.  “I’ll just be a minute.  It’s fine, Mikasa.  Live a little.”

Ignoring the last of Mikasa’s protests, Eren ran through the gate and over to the smithy.  It looked closed for the day, what with the shutters locked and the door barely ajar, but that was only because the wind had picked up earlier that morning.  Anytime there was a strong north wind, Levi had to shut himself in, said the draft cooled off the forge too much.

Slipping through the narrow opening, Eren immediately spotted Levi’s silhouette against the glow.  He was seated at one of the workbenches, a short sword balanced across his knees.  There was a small container on the table in front of him, and he alternated between dipping an abrasive pad into the concoction and scrubbing at the blade.

“Hey, Levi.”

Eren figured it would be better to let Levi know he was here instead of startling him, but the blacksmith’s bored expression seemed to suggest his presence had already been noted.  It didn’t matter how quiet he tried to be, Levi always seemed to know.

He gave Eren a quick once-over before returning to the sword.  “Fancy.  What’s the special occasion?”

Feeling entirely overdressed now that Levi had called attention to it, Eren self-consciously smoothed the front of one of his best tunics and stroked the fur lining on the new cloak Mikasa had made him.  “Today’s my nameday,” he explained.

“I might have heard something about that.  Congratulations,” Levi said sarcastically.  “You’ve somehow managed to survive another year.”

“Thanks.  I think.”  Eren wandered closer to the workbench, and when Levi didn’t say anything, sunk into the chair opposite him.  “So… what are you working on?”

Levi’s eyes flicked to his, one brow arching.  “Well you see, Eren, this here is called a sword.”

“I _know_ that,” Eren groaned.  “I was just…”  By all the gods, just once could he not make a fool of himself?  Leaning forward, he folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on them.  At least the dim lighting concealed his blush.  “Is it important?  I mean, of course it’s important, but is it urgent?  Does it have to be done today?”

Levi tossed the scouring pad aside and straightened, stretching his back with a heavy sigh.  “I know you’re working up to something, but you’re taking forever to get there.  Stop beating around the bush, and get to the point,” he said.

Eren shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked together.  His heartbeat was like a drum, rapid, racing.  Why was this so difficult?  It didn’t mean anything.  Well, it did, but only to him.  Both of Levi’s brows were lifted now in quiet expectation, and Eren took a deep, steadying breath.

“We’re having a feast tonight.  For my nameday.  I wanted to invite you.”

The shift in the atmosphere was a tangible thing.  It grew strained, uncomfortable.  “I…”  Levi’s gaze lowered and darted to the side, met Eren’s for a second before lowering again.  “I appreciate the offer, Eren, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Eren asked, head tilted.  The rejection smarted, but it wasn’t in his nature to immediately give up.

“Propriety.  Respect.  Basic societal traditions.  Take your pick.”  Levi snagged a smooth piece of fabric from the far end of the table, folded it, and began to polish the sword.  “I’m not a lord or a knight or even a squire.  I’m a blacksmith.  I don’t belong at your gatherings.”

“I thought you said fuck tradition,” Eren retorted automatically.  Before he could move away, Levi leaned forward and smacked him with the cloth.  He’d probably have the smell of oil stuck in his nose all night now, but Eren laughed anyway.  “I want you to come.  No one would say anything about you being there if I was the one who invited you.”

Levi snorted.  “Of course they would, just not to your face.  Ridicule doesn’t bother me, but given the choice, I’d rather avoid it.”

“Would you do it as a nameday gift for me?”

“No.  Sorry, but no,” Levi said curtly and resumed his work, polishing the blade until it gleamed even in the darkness.  “You’ll have to come up with something else.”

Eren watched him finish up one side, then flip it over and begin on the other.  “How about a sword?”

“So you can skewer yourself on one nameday and not live to see your next?  I doubt your parents would appreciate that.”

Honestly, his father probably wouldn’t mind if he had his own sword.  It was his mother who would be against it, and she had the final say-so.  If he could keep it a secret, though… Eren jumped up and drug the chair around the table.  When he sat back down, they were so close their knees bumped together.  Levi probably hated having his personal space invaded, but at least Eren had his full attention.

“Please, Levi?” Eren pleaded.  “I know how to fight.  Hannes has been working with me.  I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

“This isn’t about—”  Levi broke off with a frustrated noise.  “I’m not going to gift you a sword until I know you can properly wield it.  I’ve seen you train before.  You’re not bad, but you’re not good either.  You have a lot to learn.”

“Then teach me.”  The idea had popped into Eren’s head without warning.  Now he leapt on it, changing tactics so fast that Levi could only blink at him for a moment.  “Teach me how you would fight.  Let that be my nameday gift.”

Levi drummed his fingers on the sword’s hilt, mouth in a thin line, gaze narrow and keen.  It might have been intimidating if not for the faint bit of interest beneath the hard exterior.  Even still, Eren willed himself not to fidget as the proposition continued to hang in the air between them.  He wanted to show Levi he was mature now, that he wouldn’t cave under pressure.  _I'm thirteen.  I can handle this._

Levi set the sword on the table and crossed his arms.  “I’m not one of your father’s soldiers.  I’ve never fought with honor, and I don’t plan to start now.”

Eren nodded.  “I know.”

“And I won’t go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

They sat there in silence, regarding one another while the forge hissed and popped in the background, gauging the strength of each other’s resolve.  Finally, though, Levi huffed a laugh.  “I’ll make you regret wanting this,” he said, leveling Eren with a wicked smirk.

A warm, triumphant feeling swelled in Eren’s chest.  He grinned so widely his cheeks hurt.  “You can try.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to everyone who's left kudos or commented! They're always so encouraging, and I cherish each one.
> 
> And of course, thanks to [thisgirlsays22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22) for being such an amazing beta <3

Eren brushed down his horse with long, smooth strokes while Dita unloaded the saddlebags.  In the opposite stall, his father dismissed the stable hand and began untacking his stallion himself.  He’d always been more hands-on, despite his title, and encouraged others to do the same.  Not that Eren minded.  Rogue had been a gift from his parents, and he’d spent countless hours in the stables raising and training the horse himself, even going so far as to spend almost a week straight in the stable when it came down sick as a foal.

“The trip went well, my lord?” Dita asked as he carted off Eren’s saddle.

“Very.  I let Eren plan our route,” his father said.  “I expected we’d head up to Long Lake, but he chose to go south towards the Barrowlands instead.  He’s like his mother, I guess.  Prefers the forests.”

Eren leaned over the stall’s half door just in time to see Dita disappear into the tack room.  “I got to see Torrhen’s Square!”  It had been the first time he’d ever travelled that way.

“Is that so?” Dita called out.  “And how did it look?”

“Like shit!”

“Eren,” his father scolded even as he lifted a hand to hide his smile.  Dita, on the other hand, offered no such discretion, his booming laugh echoing throughout the stable.

Crossing his arms defensively, Eren side-eyed his father.  “Well, it did.  You even said so.”

“I believe I said the castle was looking disappointingly ragged these days.”

Eren shrugged.  “Same thing.”

“It’s not the…” his father trailed off into a quiet chuckle.  “Actually, no, you’re right.  It did look like shit.  Just mind you don’t phrase it that way in front of your mother.”

A gentle bump against his back from Rogue served as a reminder of his unfinished task.  Eren waited for his father to drape the saddle blanket over the half door before tossing the brush to him, then pulled an apple from the basket hanging outside the stall.  Rogue nickered expectantly when he offered the apple, and he checked over the horse’s shoeing as it ate.  He was digging out a small stone when Dita returned.

“The game must have been plentiful,” Dita grunted, picking up one of the saddlebags.  “I think you returned with more provisions than you took.”

“Easy to do when the lake’s as well stocked as it was,” his father replied.  “I need to send word to Rashad to fish it more often.  It wasn’t even a challenge.”

Eren popped up.  “I caught one with my bare hands!”

Reorganizing the carefully wrapped packages into one bag that would be easier to take to the kitchens, Dita met Eren’s eyes with a smile.  “You didn’t use a net?”

“Didn’t need to.  It swam right up to me, almost went between my legs.  Father shot a boar, too.  We were able to keep the tusks.  Here, I’ll show you,” Eren said, ducking beneath Rogue’s neck to rummage through his knapsack.  “I’ve got them here—”

“Lord Jaeger!”

The shout rang out in the stable, followed by the sound of boots clicking smartly on the cobblestones, and Dita and Eren’s father both appeared over the half door in time to meet a harried looking Keith Shadis.  Eren abandoned searching for the tusks in favor of standing as well.  Rogue nudged him again, and he blindly patted the horse’s neck as he took in Ser Keith’s grim expression.

“A raven, my lord,” Shadis said, holding up two small, rolled strips of parchment still secured by their wax seals.

His father took them and eyed the crests.  “It brought two separate messages?”

“No, only the one.”  Shadis pointed to the scroll on the right.  Eren barely made out the royal insignia before his father ripped it open.  “A messenger delivered the other.  Said his orders were to personally give it to the Lord of Winterfell, but seeing as you were out, he settled for Lady Jaeger.”

“I remember him,” recalled Dita.  “Big fellow, rode in like the devil just last night.  Wouldn’t say where he was from, but it must have been a decent trek.  His horse looked just about done in.  He’d been riding hard for a good while.”

“And this one?”  Without looking up, his father waved the message from the capital.  “When did this arrive?”

“Two days ago, my lord,” Shadis said.  “Not long after daybreak.”

Absently combing his fingers through Rogue’s mane, Eren watched his father open the second scroll, felt the sharp sting of disappointment at the frown that immediately stole across his face.  They’d only just returned and already something had happened.  The lighthearted atmosphere they’d enjoyed the past week flickered out like a candle.

Eren worried his lip, afraid to ask but unable not to.  “Father?”

His father started as if he’d forgotten Eren was even there.  Pasting on a stiff smile, he nodded towards the entrance to the stable.  “Why don’t you run along now, son?  It’s going to be a nice day.  Go find your friends, and let Dita finish up with the horses.”

“What’s happened?  Is everything okay?”  Before his father had a chance to offer any false reassurances, Eren stomped over to the half door and pressed, “You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

If nothing else, his father was a man of his word, and Eren had no qualms about using that to his advantage.  He’d bring up their conversation in the godswood all day if it gained him answers.  Likely sensing that, his father pursed his lips.

“So I did,” he admitted.  “Very well, then.  Word will spread quickly enough, you might as well hear it now.”  He handed the message to Shadis with a heavy sigh.  “The queen is dead.  She passed during childbirth.”

Eren froze.  “What?”  His fingers clenched around the door, nails digging into the wood.

“And the baby?” Dita asked.  The empty saddlebag he’d been holding fell to the ground as he rushed over to Shadis to read the message for himself.

“Stillborn,” said his father, quietly, sadly.

Dita yanked the scroll away from Shadis who proceeded to draw out a series of symbols across his chest, muttering under his breath all the while.  Eren recognized a few of them from Nanaba’s stories.  Ancient signs meant to ward off evil spirits.  Funny, he thought distantly.  He’d never imagined the master-of-arms to be a superstitious man.

Draped over the half door, Eren stared unseeingly at the walkway.  It all felt a bit odd.  He was no stranger to people dying – none of them were in the North – but this seemed different somehow.  It wasn't the death itself that bothered him, tragic as it was.  Eren’s focus shifted to the second message now folded and tucked into a pocket on his father’s tunic.  It was the timing.

“That’ll be it for now.  Dita, please tend to the horses.  Mine still needs to be rubbed down, and they both need to be fed.  If you’ll come with me, Ser Keith, there are a few things I’d like to ask you.  Eren…”  He blinked at the sound of his name, glanced up to find his father watching him closely.  “Are you okay?”

“What was in the second message?” Eren asked instead.

“Something for another time.”

The evasion only made him more curious.  “But—”

“Eren,” his father said in a firm tone Eren knew all too well.  There’d be no more discussion on the matter.  “Go on.  We’ll talk more later.”

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Eren slid away from the stall door, secured the ties on his knapsack, and hefted it over his shoulder.  He scratched behind Rogue’s ears, then lingered a bit to smooth out its forelock.  Shadis and his father had already resumed talking, although it wasn’t anything important.  If he stayed partially hidden like he was, maybe they’d forget he was there and move on to something really interesting.

“Eren,” his father called out in warning.

Or not.

So much for wishful thinking.

“I know, I know.  I’m going,” he grumbled, shoving open the stall door with more force than necessary.  Why was everyone always trying to keep in the dark?  Nobody trusted him with anything.

Dita ruffled his hair good-naturedly on his way by with a feed bucket.  “Better luck next time, little lord.  Mind you don’t knock your head on the ladder to the hayloft outside.  You’re not the most observant when you’re pouting.”

Eren gritted his teeth and whirled around, fists clenched at his sides.  “I am _not—_ ”  But then Dita winked and jerked his chin towards the ceiling.  Brows pinched in a slight frown, Eren followed the motion to the weathered boards overhead.  “Pouting,” he finished slowly.

Bits and pieces of hay poked through the occasional gap in the slats.  Other than that, there was nothing to see.  When Eren looked back, still confused, Dita rolled his eyes and subtly jabbed a finger upwards before disappearing around the other side of the horse.  What was he… oh!

“Glad to hear that,” his father cut in.  “Then you won’t complain when I tell you again to go find your friends.”

“Yes, Father,” Eren huffed in what he hoped was a convincing manner.  It was hard to act disappointed when he was fighting to keep the excitement from his face.

Adjusting his knapsack, he slouched off down the walkway, dragging his feet the whole way for show.  A quick glance over his shoulder showed his father to be deep in conversation with Shadis, heads bent close as they retreated further into the stables.  Without an audience, Eren abandoned all pretenses and started to jog.  By the time he’d pushed through the main doors, he was sprinting.

Eren used a fencepost to swing himself around the left side of the building only to find it empty.  Cursing under his breath, he ran to the other side.  He needed to hurry.  If he wanted to catch them, he didn’t have a lot of time.

There!

Propped against the far end of the stable was the ladder Dita mentioned.  Even from an angle, Eren could see it led to the hayloft, the door to which was still hanging open.  A mound of hay lay on a wagon near the base of the ladder, pitchfork speared at the center, and three horses had wandered up to graze on what was supposed to be the winter stores.  Apparently, their return had interrupted Dita’s work.

Eren vaulted over the fence but was yanked back when his knapsack caught on a jagged piece of wood.  Letting the bag slip from his shoulder, he left it dangling there as he took off across the paddock.  The horses barely looked up as he skidded to a stop and took no notice whatsoever when he attempted to shoo them away.  Not that he tried very hard.  It was more a halfhearted wave of his arms before giving up to scale the ladder.

He’d just reached the door to the loft when he heard Shadis’ voice.

“—ne that I know of,” the master-of-arms was saying.  “It was late, most everyone else had turned in for the night.  He was here and gone before anyone was the wiser.  Barely gave his horse a chance to rest.”

Eren brushed aside some of the loose hay, pushed up on his tiptoes, and eased halfway into the loft, the threshold of the doorway digging into his stomach.  A knot in the wooden floorboards had fallen out some time ago, and he could see through the hole to the tack room below where Shadis stood against the closed door while his father paced back and forth.  It was the perfect place to listen in.  He’d have to thank Dita later.

“You didn’t know him?” his father asked.

“He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.  He wouldn’t give his name.”

His father stopped in front of the small hearth and absently fingered the two scrolls.  “No, I suspect he wouldn’t.  He was a tall man, though?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Well-built?”

“Very.  His clothes were distinctly southern, but there was no sigil that I could see, nor any identifying house colors.”  Shadis opened his mouth, appeared to reconsider, then took a deep breath and asked anyway, “Forgive me, my lord, but was the message not signed?”

“No, its contents were too dangerous for that.  Carefully worded, perhaps, but still risky.  The sender didn’t even use a marked seal.”  His father knelt before the hearth.  “If it happened to fall into the wrong hands…”

As if to drive that point home, his father tossed both scrolls into the low-burning fire.  Eren pressed his face closer to the knothole and watched the parchment curl, blacken, and dissolve into ash.  What message could be so damning that his father had to destroy all evidence?

When nothing remained, his father cocked his head.  “Ser Keith, was the rider, by chance, blonde?  Shaggy hair, close-trimmed beard?”

“He was,” Shadis said, pushing away from the door in surprise.  “Do you know who it was, my lord?”

His father hummed and stood.  “I’ve a hunch.  I could be mistaken, but I—”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Eren jumped at the sudden yell.  One foot slipped off the top rung, and he slid almost halfway down the ladder before catching himself.  As he gradually regained his bearings, the rush of adrenaline had his hands and legs trembling.  His chin smarted, too.  He’d knocked it against every rung during the fall, and it took a moment for him to feel brave enough to let go of the ladder and rub at the sore spot.

Adjusting his hold, he looked down to where Levi stood with his arms crossed.  The horses had abandoned the hay, although one had decided to come up behind the blacksmith and arch its head over his shoulder.  Eren cast a wary glance back towards the loft as he began the rest of his descent.  Hopefully his father hadn’t heard the commotion.  That would be a hard one to explain.

“I was…”  Eren jumped the last few feet to the ground.  “Helping put up the extra hay.”

Levi arched a brow.  “Without a pitchfork?”

“There was too much at the front of the loft.  I was pushing it back to make more room.”  Thankful that he’d at least touched the hay, Eren clapped the dust from his hands.  However, Levi clearly wasn’t buying it.

“No, you weren’t,” he countered.  “You’ve been standing there with your ass hanging out of the hayloft since I walked up.”  When Eren hesitated, Levi’s mouth twitched in a faint smirk.  “I spotted you right as you got to the loft.  Just in case you were wondering how long I’ve been here.”

Damn it.

Eren floundered for a moment, struggling to come up an excuse, while Levi waited patiently.  “Haven’t you ever heard of taking a break?” he finally shot back.

Levi snorted.  “You make a shitty hand, then.  You have to actually work before you get to take a break, and you’ve barely made a dent in this.”  He thumped a fist against the side of the wagon.

“That’s because I was helping Dita in the stable.  The horses were, uh… going wild.”

They both looked at the horse still calmly resting on Levi’s shoulder.  Eren cringed, but Levi either didn’t notice or pretended not to, running a hand down the horse’s muzzle and allowing it to _whuff_ softly into his palm.  “Wild, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eren said.  It was too late to change his story now.  Might as well commit.  “A couple raccoons got into the feed room and started fighting.  You know how loud they can get, as bad as dogs tearing into each other.  All the noise was scaring the horses.”

“Strange for raccoons to be out in the middle of day.  Could’ve been mad.”

“I think they were!  They were growling and foaming at the mouth and moving all funny.”  Locking his legs, Eren leaned from side to side while jerking his arms around.  He’d technically never seen an animal in the throes of madness, but Hange had been more than happy to describe the symptoms when he found them dissecting one once.  “We trapped them under an old washtub until Dita could get his knife.  It was pretty gruesome.”

“You’re telling me Dita got close enough to a couple diseased raccoons to kill them with a knife?”

“Umm…”  Eren abruptly changed his downward stabbing motions to forward jabs.  “Maybe it was a sword.”

Levi stared at him blankly as an awkward silence filled the space between them.  When Eren eventually stilled and offered a hesitant smile, the blacksmith only shook his head.  “You know, I admire your resolve, but this is embarrassing.  How long were you planning to keep this up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” Levi drawled.  “Tell you what… why don’t we skip to the part where you admit you were eavesdropping again so I can tell you off and get back to work.  If you do it before I count to three, I promise not to tell Lord Jaeger that you’re being a sneaky little shit.”

“As if you’d—”

“One.”

“He probably wouldn’t even—”

“Two.”

“Okay fine, I was eavesdropping!” Eren admitted.  He scuffed the toe of his boot into a clump of grass with a petulant scowl.  “It’s not a big deal, though.  You interrupted before Father even said anything important.”

Levi nodded, sharp and unrepentant.  “Good.  The less you know, the better.”

With a click of his tongue, Levi urged the dozing horse off his shoulder and out into the paddock.  Eren watched him brush nonexistent dust from his tunic once it was gone, then turned away to fold his arms on the side of the wagon.  As he stood there, the frustration he’d felt at getting caught ebbed away, simmering into something more melancholic.  He’d never been able to stay upset at Levi.

“It’s just not fair,” Eren said, resting his chin on his arms.  “I want to _do_ something.  Father will be leaving for Storm’s End soon, and I don’t know…”  First the rumors of the false king and a coup, now the dead queen and her stillborn baby.  There was too much going on.  It made him feel jittery and on edge, like how animals acted before a storm.  “I’ve got a bad feeling is all.”

“Have you spoken to your father about this?”

“Yes, and he wants me to stay here and look after Mother.”

“An honorable task,” Levi reasoned.  “But I’m guessing that’s not enough for you.”

Eren whirled around, and the fears spilled out one by one unbidden.  “What if something bad happens to him while he’s gone?  What if someone else knows about the messages and betrays him?  If the king finds out he’s involved, he’d be charged with treason.  I know what happens to traitors, and I don’t want taking care of Mother to include comforting her when the king ships what’s left of Father back to us in a crate.”

Throughout the tirade, Levi stared at him evenly.  “You’re worried,” he said once Eren went quiet.  “It’s understandable.”

“He’s just always watching out for everyone else.  I don’t think he realizes that sometimes he needs to be watched out for also.”

A resounding bang had them both glancing over to the kitchens.  One of the cooks was standing in the open doorway, yelling as she brandished a wooden ladle above her head.  It would’ve been threatening – Eren had been whacked by her spoons more than once and could verify she was stronger than she looked– if not for the fact that she was covered in flour from head to toe.

Scanning the courtyard, Eren spotted Sasha crouched out of sight on the other side of the well.  Splotches of flour covered her dress, and she was eagerly digging into the mixing bowl she’d filched, bringing frosting-coated fingers to her mouth.  When she noticed his attention, she offered a cheeky grin that he did his best to return.  The day had taken such an unexpected turn.  It was nice to be reminded that some things remained the same.

“Eren, listen to me,” Levi said, stepping closer and immediately drawing Eren’s gaze.  “I know you want to help, but helping doesn’t always equate action.  Your father wants to keep his family safe.  Right now, the best thing you can do is let him focus on whatever’s going on and not give him something else to worry about.”

“You make it sound like all I do is get in trouble,” Eren groused.

“Because that _is_ all you do.”  With a sigh, Levi reached out to work a piece of hay from Eren’s hair.  “The realms aren’t as peaceful as people like to think.  You need to be careful or you’ll end up in one of those crates as well.”

Not for the first time, Eren wondered how much Levi honestly knew.  What kind of secrets had loose-lipped patrons dropped in his presence without thinking?  But it was only a brief, passing thought.  Those calloused fingers in his hair had Eren’s cheeks warming as he stared at the sharp angle of Levi’s jaw through his lashes and promptly forgot how to breathe.  It made it well near impossible to catch what the blacksmith said next, which must have been important, judging from his unamused expression.

“Sorry, what?” Eren asked, and Levi stepped back, rolling his eyes.

“I said you need a distraction, but it looks like you’re managing that well enough on your own.”

Eren disguised the nervous chuckle that bubbled up in his throat with a cough.  “A distraction?”  If Levi would come closer again, he’d stay plenty distracted.

“Distraction, diversion, hobby… something to keep you busy so you stop all this sneaking around bullshit,” Levi said.  He paused for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought, before nodding as if he’d made up his mind.  “Come to the smithy two nights from now.  It’s time we start those lessons you wanted so badly.”

Eren blinked slowly as the invitation bounced around his mind without taking hold.  Either he was still addled by their previous proximity or… no, Levi was definitely making good on their agreement from a few weeks back.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” Levi said with an offhand shrug. 

“No!” Eren exclaimed loud enough to make a couple kids playing on the other side of the fence stop and look.  The hint of a smile played at Levi’s mouth when he tried again, this time more calmly.  “I mean yes, I’ll be there.  But… why does it have to be in the evening?”

“You think I’ve got nothing better to do during the day than teach you how to hold a sword?”

Eren groaned.  “I _know_ how to hold a sword.”

“Well, let's hope you're a better swordsman than you are a liar.”  Turning on his heel, Levi started back across the paddock towards the smithy.  “A bit of advice,” he called over his shoulder.  “Keep it simple.  Save the idiotic stories about raccoons and wild horses for your friends.”

“Hey now, it wasn't that bad!  Who's the one who brought up the raccoons being mad?”

“Who's the one who actually believed me and ran with it?” Levi retorted as he climbed over the fence.

Eren stuck out his tongue and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle before Levi disappeared into the smithy.  It was really happening.  Levi was going to willingly spend time with him.  It was all in the name of training, of course, but still… a wide grin eased over his face as he went to retrieve his knapsack.  Even a glimpse of his father and Shadis leaving the stable wasn't enough to ruin his mood.

The underlying fear remained, but it was no longer crippling.  After all, his father was the strongest person he knew.  He was strong enough to take care of everyone else _and_ himself.  Eren shouldered his knapsack and headed for Sasha to see if she'd share the last bit of frosting, feeling significantly better.  Everything was going to turn out fine.


	4. Chapter 4

A rod smacked the table between Eren’s hands with a loud _crack_ , and he blinked to see Moblit bent at the waist, watching him with brows raised.  It looked like he’d been trying to get his attention for a while.  Several poorly-muffled sniggers came from behind him.

“Focus,” the maester said, tapping the parchment.  “You’ve only a few left.”

Eren tucked the quill behind his ear and tipped the chair onto its back legs.  “It’s so nice out, though.  Can’t our studies wait for another day?”  Sometime when the sun wasn’t shining and the breeze mild.

Clear days were few and far between, and judging by the noise drifting in through the open window, it sounded like everyone else in Winterfell was enjoying it.  No one wanted to be cooped up inside on a day like this.  Not that that was the only reason for his inattention.  He was to meet Levi later.  Looking forward to that had proved far more distracting than anything else over the past couple days.

“Do you think Karl Fritz waited to deal with House Tybur all those years ago?”

“Civil unrest is a little different than sums,” Eren retorted.

“Is it?”  Straightening, Moblit clasped his hands behind his back.  “Let’s say you’re a lord at war.  How many soldiers do you have at your disposal?  Do you have enough materials to forge armor for them all?  Weapons?  Tack for their mounts?  What about your enemy?  What kind of army will you face, and how far will you have to travel?  Will you need ships?  How many men will need to be spared to form supply lines, and do you have adequate food stores to support them?”

Eren shrugged at the onslaught of questions.  “That’s what advisors are for.  The rest is a simple comparison of numbers.”

“Perhaps, but one hundred infantrymen are not the same as one hundred cavalrymen,” Moblit said.

“Then I’ll provide horses for as many men possible.”

“And if you’re invading Dorne?”

The scratching of quills had ceased some time ago, his friends abandoning their work in favor of watching the debate.  Eren could feel their eyes on the back of his neck and hunched his shoulders defensively.  “What _if_ I’m invading Dorne?”

“If you had to choose, what would you take?” Moblit asked.  “Infantry or cavalry?”

Eren frowned, considering the question, and let the chair fall forward.  “Well,” he began hesitantly, “horses would be quicker through the Red Mountains.”  It was the obvious answer, but it felt too easy.

“Yes, they would.”  Nodding, Moblit tucked his hands into the long sleeves of his robe.  “You’d travel hard and fast until your horses began to struggle in the desert sands.  The Dornishmen would pick many of you off before you could even get close to Sunspear.”

“But foot soldiers would be lucky to make it through the mountain passes,” Eren complained.

“And therein lies the problem.  You have to weigh your options and see what results in the fewest losses.”  Moblit arched an expectant brow.  “And how exactly will you do that?”

With a sigh, Eren glanced down at the parchment, over to the open window longingly, then back again.  However, before he could answer, a crumpled up scrap of parchment connected with the back of his head.  He turned to glare at Jean only to be hit with a second piece on his forehead.

“With sums, Jaeger,” Jean drawled while Connie laughed beside him.  Even Marco in the row behind them had a faint smile curling his mouth.

“Yes, thank you, Jean.  That’ll be enough,” Moblit said, tapping the rod to the table again to take control of the situation.  “Now the point, Eren, is that all men are not all equal all the time.  These sums will help you measure that.  It may not seem like it now, but one day, this will help.”

“But it’s—”

Jean’s groan drowned him out.  “Just get on with it already, would you?  If you can’t do this, then you might as well go learn needlework with the girls.”

“What did you say?” Eren asked, stiffening.

As if sensing the potential danger, Armin shot him a wary look and leaned over.  “Eren, how about we just finish these so we can be done with it?  Here, I’ll—”

“I _said_ Armin’s brother probably has more brains than you, and he’s an idiot.  Why don’t you run along now and play dolls with your sister.”

“Help you,” Armin finished weakly as Eren slammed his hands down on the table, jumped to his feet, and whirled around.

“That’s it!” he snarled, sprawling across the table.  He grappled for a handful of Jean’s tunic, but Jean kept batting his hands away and staying just out of reach, even going so far as to jab him with a quill at one point.  All the while, Connie whooped in encouragement.  “You think I’m some kind of sissy?  Let’s have a go, then.”

“As if you could take me.” 

“I’ve kicked your ass before, Kirstein, and I’ll do it again.”

“Is that what you did?  Pretty sure it was the other way around.  I’m surprised you were even able to see with those tears in your eyes.”  Jean blinked dramatically and gave a mocking sniffle.  “How long did it take for your nose to heal again?”

Scooting further onto the table, Eren landed wild punches against Jean’s forearms with each word.  “You— were— just— lucky!”

“Boys,” Moblit sighed from somewhere behind them.

“Now that I think about it, you looked better with two black eyes, although it doesn’t take much when you’ve got a face like that,” Jean continued with a snort.  “I’ll make you a deal… name the time and place, and I’ll blacken your eye whenever you want.”

“Says the guy who gets rescued half the time.”  Eren paused long enough to hold his face and coo in a high-pitched imitation of Jean’s mother.  “No, please don’t hurt him.  Not my little Jeanbo.”

“Leave my mother out of this!”  Jean stabbed him with the quill again, this time breaking skin.  “If you call me that one more time, I’ll blacken more than—”

The rest of the threat was lost when Eren finally maneuvered through Jean’s defenses to deliver a clean right hook to his jaw.  They both went still for a moment, staring at each other in surprise.  Even Connie stopped cheering them on.  For all their talk, no one had actually expected it to come to blows, not with Moblit around.  But Eren couldn’t help himself.  He’d seen the opening and taken it, and now Jean’s face was twisted in a furious scowl as he hauled Eren closer and raised a fist.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall so hard it bounced off and had to be pushed back again, and everyone looked to the newcomer in the doorway.

“There you are, Moblit!” Hange exclaimed, stepping into the room.  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Eren eased out of Jean’s grasp and slid back into his chair.  When Hange gave a perfunctory glance around the room, he raised a hand in greeting.  The former maester could be a bit overwhelming, but he liked spending time with them.  Who else would be willing to talk to him about the higher mysteries?  Certainly not Moblit.  He was too straight-laced to believe in skinchangers, alchemy, and greensight.

“Now’s really not the best time,” Moblit tried, but Hange was already making their way to the front of the room.

“There’s never a good time for bad omens.”  Hange’s arms were full of several large rolls of parchment that they dumped onto Eren’s table, covering up his and Armin’s work.  The closest one opened just enough to reveal a series of arcing lines with dots interspersed amongst them.  “Look at this.”

Hange gestured to Moblit, but Eren leaned over to look at the two maps they’d unrolled also.  The first was a standard depiction of Westeros.  The other was… well, he honestly didn’t know what it was.  It was similar to the one he’d just glimpsed, only this one had seven lines meandering across the entire page.  The only reason he knew it was some kind of map was because it was drawn over an outline of Westeros.

“They’re off,” Hange said, sweeping a hand across the second map.  “All of them.”

Moblit shook his head.  “That’s impossible.”

“I think you mean improbable.”

“No, I meant what I said.  Impossible,” Moblit repeated.  He pointed to a spot on the first map, and Eren noticed a faint line he hadn’t seen earlier.  It began in the sea northwest of the Iron Islands, curved down through the Westerlands almost to King’s Landing, then jutted out across the Narrow Sea towards Pentos.  There were others, too, taking different paths across the continent.  “The wanderers are never off.  They may drift from time to time, but they always follow the same general path.”

Astronomy.  Eren leaned back as realization hit.  They were talking about astronomy.  Hange’s map wasn’t a map, per se, it was a star chart.

“They are off, though.  See here…”  Hange traced what was meant to be the same line on the second map.  Instead of leveling out above King’s Landing, though, it swooped just beneath it, cradling it inside its trajectory.  “The red wanderer has never gone so far south.”

“Hange…”

Ignoring Moblit, they pointed out the six other lines.  “Look at these compared to where they should be.  Even you can’t deny it’s strange.  And that doesn’t even get into the constellations!  Eren, if you would…”

Eren handed over the rolled parchment in front of him when Hange waved a hand in its general direction.  “Is it because of the changing seasons?” he asked as they smoothed out the third map, this one with dots scattered around in the likeness of constellations.

A chorus of groans filled the room.

Connie climbed onto the table and physically turned Eren’s head towards the window.  “Yes because it’s _clearly_ going to start snowing any moment.”

“Keep bringing up nonsense like that, and we’ll have to start calling you Connie,” Jean said and immediately brought his hands up to block Connie’s feet when he spun around on the table.

While the two boys wrestled behind them, Armin scooted his chair closer.  “Old Nan was just telling you that to keep you occupied.”

“It wasn’t just another one of her stories, though.  She really believes it.”

“Maybe so, but if winter was coming, there’d be more signs.  The Citadel would’ve sent word,” Armin reasoned.  It was a sound argument, and Eren couldn’t fault him for it, especially not when he’d said the same thing at first.  “Just because Old Nan believes it, doesn’t mean it’s true.  She believes in a lot of things that don’t exist anymore.”

“Armin’s right, Eren.  The seasons aren’t changing,” Moblit said.  “Not yet.”

“What are you— of _course_ they’re changing!” Hange protested, mouth hanging open not unlike a fish out of water.  They pushed back the curling ends of the third map.  “That’s part of what I’m trying to show you!”

Moblit closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Right, well, I think it’s safe to say we’re not going to get any more accomplished.  I suppose that’ll be it for today.”

It was as if the maester had said a magic word.  Jean and Connie instantly separated and darted for the door, Marco close on their heels.  Eren waited long enough for Armin to catch up before clambering down the spiraling staircase and out into bright, warm sunshine as well.  The breeze ruffled his tunic, drying the slight sheen of sweat on his back from the stuffy room.

“Hey guys, over here!”

Near the gate leading to the godswood, Eren spotted Connie waving his arms and jumping up and down between Jean and Marco.  Samuel, Franz, and Thomas had joined them, too.  A rare surprise considering they were usually preoccupied with their duties in the winter town.  It didn’t look like they were in Winterfell for a delivery, though, so they must have snuck away for the afternoon.

“Come on!” Connie yelled, waving them over.  “Let’s go for a swim before dinner!”

Eren eyed the sky.  The sun was well past its zenith, dipping low enough now to brush Winterfell’s battlements, but there was still plenty of daylight left.  It wouldn’t be time for him to meet Levi for a while yet.  He’d considered going for a ride through the Wolfswood, but a swim didn’t sound bad either.  While not very big, the pond in the godswood made for good fun.  Deep enough to dunk someone, but shallow enough to hold his ground when roughhousing.

“One of these days we’re going to get in trouble for playing in here,” Armin said even as they slipped through the gate and closed it firmly behind them.

Up ahead, Eren could hear the other boys splashing around.  He flashed a grin Armin’s way, already tugging the tunic over his head.  “Only if we get caught.”

Eren added his tunic to the growing pile of clothes beside the pond and stripped off his boots and trousers.  With the sun borderline hot on his back, he was more inclined to agree with Armin and Moblit.  Maybe Nanaba was just exaggerating.  His father might warn of the impending winter often, but summer still seemed to be in full swing.  The way things were going, it was hard to imagine winter would ever come.

 

* * *

 

Levi whistled as he grabbed Eren’s chin and turned his head to either side.  “Impressive.  That ladder got you good the other day.  Looks like it hurts.”

When he pressed a thumb to the bruise on the underside of his jaw, Eren jerked free with a wince.  “It does.”

“What about those?”

Stepping back, Eren smoothed down his sleeves to cover the red marks where Jean had stabbed him with the quill and the smattering of bruises along his forearms from their scuffle.  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.

“Picking fights you can’t win again, huh?”

“ _No._ ”

“You sure about that?” Levi asked, arching a brow.  “Because it looks like you’re the one who took the beating.”

“We were just messing around.  It didn’t even go that far.  I was actually the only one who got in a good punch before Hange interrupted.”

A small smirk played at the corners of Levi’s mouth as he hummed, unconvinced, and Eren stomped deeper into the smithy with a huff.  Most people didn’t believe he could win.  Sure, there were plenty of times he’d been bested, but he’d also come out on top just as often.  Just because Levi hadn’t been there to see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t true.  He could hold his own.  Sometimes.

“I can beat Jean,” Eren insisted.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”  Levi hung the leather apron he occasionally wore on a hook by the forge, then cocked his head.  “Jean… isn’t that the kid who broke your nose?”

Gritting his teeth, Eren sullenly kicked the nearest leg of a worktable.  “It was a lucky shot.”

Why did everyone always bring that up?  It’s as if no one remembered the time he’d head-butted Jean so hard he’d knocked him unconscious for nearly ten minutes.  He’d given himself a raging headache in the process, but still.  Thankfully, Levi seemed content to let the topic go, lifting one shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

“You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t room for improvement.  Pay attention to everything I teach you, and next time he won’t be so lucky.”

Eren relaxed at the reminder of why he was really there and watched Levi cross to a barrel wedged between a stack of firewood and an old, battered trunk.  There was no point in getting wound up over things that had already happened.  It would only distract him.  They both knew he had a long way to go, but he didn’t want to come across as a complete failure.

“Still want to do this?” Levi asked as he rifled through the contents of the barrel.

“If you think I’m going to change my mind, you don’t know me very well.”

“Unfortunately, I know you better than I’d like.”  Withdrawing a couple items, Levi turned and held one out.  “Let’s get started.”

The item turned out to be a wooden practice sword, the kind given to children when they first began training, and Eren took it with a frown.  “This is wood.”

“Your skills of observation are truly unparalleled,” Levi deadpanned, rolling one of the anvils mounted on a wheeled cart towards the wall.  “Until I have an idea of where you stand, we’ll use these.  Wouldn’t want to overestimate your abilities and accidentally kill you.”

Eren gave the practice sword another disdainful once-over, then stuck his tongue out while Levi’s back was turned for good measure.  He might not be as skilled as Mikasa, but he wasn’t _that_ bad.

A couple chairs, several large hammers, and a small worktable covered in various horseshoe molds joined the anvil to create an open area in the front half of the smithy.  It wasn’t large enough for true swordplay, but it would work for the basics.  They probably wouldn’t get past that for a while anyway.

“Okay…”  Levi nudged him into the opening and moved to stand opposite him.  “What’s the first rule of swordplay?”

Dropping into a fighting stance, Eren whipped the wooden sword into position.  “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Levi stared at him blankly for a moment, then sighed and lowered his head.  “I know there’s not more than dust between your ears, but fuck.”

Eren chuckled.  “I was just kidding.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”  The end of his sword was batted away as Levi stepped closer, and Eren had to fight down the nervous edge that threatened to creep into his laugh.  He had been kidding.  Sort of.  “Come on, we don’t have all night,” Levi continued.  “What’s the first rule?”

“Uh, stance?”  That was where Hannes had started them.

Levi nodded sharply.  “Good, you’re not completely hopeless.  Is that yours, then?”

Some of Eren’s tension slipped away at the praise, and he followed Levi’s gesture, taking in his own form.  He’d been more or less playing earlier, so he adjusted his feet and shoulders into a more serious position.  When he looked up, he was rewarded with another nod.

“Not bad,” Levi said as he slowly circled him.  “Nice leg position, make sure to keep that knee out.  Wrists straight, shoulders back… what’s this about?”  He stopped at Eren’s right side and tapped his arm with the sword.  “Are you planning to take me out with those bony elbows?  Keep them down.”

Eren did as he said, which must have satisfied Levi because he finished off by facing him again, his own sword poised and ready.  It was a different stance than Eren had ever seen before, though.  Instead of extending his sword out between them, Levi held the hilt back near his waist.  Eren shifted his weight, bringing his sword back to mimic the pose, only for Levi to dart out quicker than he could follow and smack him.

“Hey!” Eren exclaimed, shaking out his hand.  “What was that for?”

“Beginner.”  Levi pointed first to Eren, then himself.  “Expert.  Stick to what you know for now.”

“But yours is so much…”  Eren trailed off.

More intimidating.

Returning to his prior position, Levi motioned for Eren to do the same.  “We can discuss different stances if you ever manage to disarm me,” he said.  “Think of it as an incentive to work hard.”

Eren huffed a laugh.  As if he'd slack off.  He wanted nothing more than to impress Levi, but he knew better than to think it would be an easy task.  If he wanted Levi to be proud, he was going to have to earn it.

The fire in the forge flickered.  It was the only movement in the smithy, and Eren watched the light play across Levi's features, turning those keen eyes molten silver.  It would've been hypnotic if not for the anticipation slowly but steadily curling throughout his body.  His fist tightened around the sword as he took a steadying breath, looked for an opening, tried to figure out how best to—

Levi's sword sliced through the air without warning.

Eren blocked before it could hit his neck, but he still felt the rough wood brush against his skin for a moment before he pushed Levi back.  After that, it was like muscle memory.  He studied Levi’s every move carefully, lunging forward to strike when the opportunity arose, countering when he couldn’t.  It was painfully obvious that Levi could’ve disarmed him whenever he wished.  Instead, he drew Eren to attack, opening his defenses to attract the moves Hannes had taught him.

Everything was going surprisingly well until Levi stepped to the right only to spin back and smack Eren, who’d fallen for the feint, across his lower back.  The force of the blow had Eren stumbling forward.  Once he regained his balance, he raised his free hand in an unspoken request for a break and rubbed at the sore spot.  He should’ve seen that coming.

“Second rule,” Levi said, coming close enough to lean down to Eren's level and point to his own eyes.  “Here.  Keep your focus on my eyes, not my body.”

“It's not your eyes that'll kill me.”

“No, but it's a hell of a lot harder to lie with them.  Eyes are telling.  They'll give you a better idea of your opponent's plan than their body will.”  Stepping back, Levi casually twirled his sword.  “Again?”

Eren nodded.  “Again.”

They faced off, and Eren forced himself to watch Levi's eyes.  It was harder than he expected, breaking old habits.  He kept wanting to glance at Levi's sword arm or his feet as they slowly circled each other.  He followed the command, though, and this time when Levi feinted left, he caught the almost imperceptible way his eyes darted to the right.

Eren brought his sword up in a hasty block and followed it with a backhanded slash to regain some space.  However, Levi didn’t give him time to dwell on his success.  He pressed forward again, and even though he seemed to move with more purpose, Eren saw his eyes briefly flick the opposite direction and reacted accordingly… only for Levi to follow through instead of reversing and whack Eren under the chin with the flat of his sword.

He’d feinted alright, just with his eyes.

“Fucking—”  Eren staggered back, eyes watering as he cupped his already bruised chin.  “That hurt!”

Levi held up the wooden sword.  “Not as much as if these were real.”

“You told me to watch your eyes,” Eren grumbled with a petulant scowl, feeling betrayed.

“Third rule is don’t blindly follow every rule.  You still have to think.  If your opponent continues on for too long, odds are it’s not a feint no matter what the other signs might be.”

“Would’ve been nice for you to tell me that ahead of time.  I could’ve at least known to expect it.”

“Perhaps, but I guarantee you’ll remember this lesson,” Levi said and scoffed at the way Eren’s scowl deepened.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I told you I don’t fight with honor.”

Knowing that and suffering the reality of it were two entirely different things, though.  Sniffing quietly, Eren turned away and used his sleeve to discreetly wipe his eyes and nose.  “So how am I supposed to know when it’s real and when it’s a trick?”

“Practice.  That’s what we’re here for.”  When Eren didn’t respond right away, Levi’s voice softened.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I…”  Eren cleared his throat.  His chin throbbed and his pride felt a bit wounded, but that wasn’t enough to make him to walk away.  He’d waited too long for an opportunity to spend time like this with Levi as it was.  That he was receiving valuable training was just an added bonus.  “I’m good,” he said, readying his sword.  “Let’s go again.”

“Haven’t had enough yet?”

“Not even close.”  Levi took a more traditional stance this time around, and the tips of their swords clicked lightly together.  In the momentary silence, Eren felt the anticipation return.  “Is that it, then?  Any other rules?”

“How about sticking them with the pointy end,” Levi teased, and Eren smiled.

“Right.  Anything else?”

“Yes.”  In the blink of an eye, Levi went on the offensive, executing a flurry of unrelenting strokes that culminated in Eren being pinned against one of the smithy’s support posts.  Their swords were crossed between them, and Eren stared at Levi through the wooden blades with wide, admiring eyes.  “Fifth rule,” Levi said.  “Don’t die.  Survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to [thisgirlsays22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlsays22/pseuds/thisgirlsays22) for betaing <3
> 
> Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://stalrua.tumblr.com)! Updates and items of inspiration are being tracked [here](http://stalrua.tumblr.com/tagged/to-hold-the-sky).


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